Day 5: Kautokeino, Norway to Muonio, Finland | 135km

Despite almost nine hours of sleep, it still felt heavy to open my eyes. Part of me just wanted to stay in that warm, soft, and clean hotel bed. But hunger won out, and the breakfast buffet called my name, so I swung my legs over the edge. The moment I stood up, my leg buckled, unable to support my weight. I wondered how on earth I was supposed to bike anywhere that day.

I helped myself to multiple servings of breakfast: an estimated six eggs, crispy bacon, fresh juice, a small jug of coffee, and three flaky croissants. It was exactly what I needed, and I felt some of my strength returning. I took my time gathering all my belongings, slowly loading them onto the bike, and eventually set off.

To my astonished surprise, I felt okay. A strong tailwind propelled me forward faster than on any previous day. It was as though Norway was finished with me, and I with it, so both of us just wanted me to get out of there as quickly and painlessly as possible. Call it a parting gift from the cold, barren northern country. I’m in no rush to return.

Just a few kilometers in, I stopped at a grocery store to pick up extra energy for the ride: a few bananas, two protein yogurts, and a couple of chocolate bars. The next 80 kilometers to Muonio in Finland flew by. The sun beamed on my face, the wind cooled me from behind, and the flat tarmac was a more than welcome gift. It only took three hours or so to reach the first town in Finland, where I met a fellow cyclist who had started her journey in Helsinki. We shared a table for a meal, and she told me about some of her previous bikepacking trips across Iceland, Canada, and Alaska.

After the days I’d just spent in the cold and snowy mountains, I thought she must be crazy. I didn’t know what was in store for me, but she had willingly returned to even colder landscapes to cycle through, although she may have been better prepared than I was. She was extremely cheerful about the cool weather and even seemed to relish it, which gave me reason to reconsider my attitude toward the cold. I thought about it for a bit but came to the same conclusion: I’d never again go north for a bikepacking trip. My future life was on a beach, with a chilled glass bottle of beer in my right hand and my feet lightly buried in warm sand.

Even though my body felt battered from the experience in the mountains, my legs scarred with wounds and small cuts, I felt surprisingly energized. Possibly from knowing I had passed what I considered the northern section and was headed toward warmer climates, Swedish summer, and gentler hills.

Continually surprised by how much energy I had left in the tank, I pedaled on for hours. When the sun began to lower (it never fully set), I checked one of the apps I use to find campspots, Park4Night, and saw I was closing in on what looked like a beautiful spot right next to a river. When I turned onto the gravel road leading toward the water, I noticed a camper van parked in the same spot, but luckily, there was space for a tent. I usually don’t like setting up camp next to people, but that day, it felt comforting knowing others were close by.